


A Christmas Miscalculation

by MariaAD, NotProudNotOut



Series: Merry Christmas 2014 [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Special, Gen, M/M, Oneshot, They Make It Work, Watson is in for a surprise.., Watson should probably mind, decorating gone wild, giant tree, half of the time Holmes has no idea what he's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaAD/pseuds/MariaAD, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotProudNotOut/pseuds/NotProudNotOut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson is in for a surprise as he returns to 221 Baker Street after a night in the other end of town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Miscalculation

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was written by MariaAD, as I - DDAriSieg - only did the ending and betaing. We hope you enjoy!

London was buzzing. Shops as well as private people were busy putting up Christmas decorations, and the smell of the sweet Christmas pastry was filling the streets.

Though it was still only the third of December, and therefore still a while to Christmas, people were quickly getting into the habit of wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

Watson liked Christmas. In his family they had always had traditions and he remembered his childhood Christmases as being joyful. Though after his brother began drinking it was never the same, and Watson was mostly happy to not be able to attend the party this year. Christmas whilst being in the war wasn’t really something he gave much thought, simply seeing as he had been busy in the operating room for the most part.

Now, walking through the streets on this beautiful morning, he had a content smile on his face.

 

This Christmas would be the first he got to spend with Sherlock after the detective had come back from the dead, so to say.

The past years had been a mixture of good and bad.

The first year after having lost Sherlock he had had Mary. They had spent the Christmas with her family, and it hadn’t been the worst of weekends. The next year was at his parents' place, and not an experience he wanted to think back on. The third year after Sherlock, Mary had gotten sick. She had died only a month later. And the last Christmas, after Sherlock and Mary, was barely a part of his memory.

This year would be spent with Sherlock at Baker Street, with dinner at Mycrofts, and Watson was looking forward to it.

 

He had just spent the night at the other Holmes brother’s house, and Watson was now on his way back to Baker Street. He had been called out on a medical visit in the other end of town, and so Sherlock had convinced him that staying overnight with his brother would be the best idea. The patient was an old doctor friend who was currently very ill and therefore Watson was happy about the prospect of not having to cut his visit short, even if it meant enduring Mycroft's idiosyncrasies.

 

A familiar smell hit him as he passed the bakery at the corner of Baker Street. Cinnamon-Apple buns, one of his and Holmes’ favourites.

He bought one for each.

 

Some minutes later he walked through the door at 221 Baker Street, cakes in one hand and cane in the other.

Mrs. Hudson was out. She had told him she would be doing her Christmas shopping early, and for the last few days she had been out in town.

 

He made his way up the stairs, and that’s when he first noticed something was off. There was a smell in the air. At first he wasn’t sure what it was but soon he remembered, spruce.

The smell got stronger as he neared the door to his and Sherlocks shared living room, and Watson tried to ignore the bad feeling that spread through him. He pulled off his jacket and reached for the door.

 

“I’m back, and I brought ca…..”

He had opened the door and stepped in, only to be met with a strong smell of Christmas and the need to think back and confirm that he had indeed walked to the right house. The jacket fell to the floor behind him.

The one thing that immediately caught his attention was the Christmas tree. Over two meters tall, bending at the top to fit, and covered in all kinds of… stuff. So far Watson had identified crumbled newspaper, cutlery, a torn sheet, pipe cleaners, small tin cans, chemistry equipment and chess pieces… And that was seeing the thing from afar and after only a minute or two.

And then there was the rest of the room.

Anywhere he looked there was either; spruce, pine, holly, mistletoe or just vast amounts of red bows.

Watson, who had only ventured two more steps in the last minutes, was about to continue exploring the frankly disturbing scenery(Watson liked Christmas… but.. maybe not this much), when he heard a noise.

He looked towards the tiger skin rug, already knowing what he would find there. And true enough. Tangled in fabric, newspaper and string, surrounded by different projects, was Sherlock Holmes himself.

Watson couldn’t help but laugh slightly as he went towards his dear friend.

“Holmes?”

The detective stirred with a complaining sound, and Watson leaned in and dangled the bag of cake over his head.

“Apple-Cinnamon Buns straight from Ms. Miller.”

A pair of brown eyes were now fixed on the bag and Watson extracted it before it was grabbed. Sherlock once again complained without using words.

Watson was soon sitting down in his chair, the cakes on the table beside him, and as expected Holmes soon began to crawl in his direction.

“Care to explain.. all this, old friend?”

Sherlock stopped in front of the cakes, and looked around at the decorations for a time. He had a somewhat dazed expression on his face, as if he too was seeing it for the first time.

”Mrs Hudson..” he began, and reached for the cakes. Watson quickly snatched them out of the detective's grasp, and looked at him sternly.

”I may not be as acute an observer as yourself, but if you think I cannot deduce who made this mess you underestimate me, old boy.”

Holmes looked longingly towards the cakes, but then sat back in a more human position, crossing his legs in front of him.

”I'm suggesting no such thing!” his tone was indignant. ”I was merely going to say that Mrs. Hudson suggested I do a bit of decoration before you come back. She indicated that you deserved to feel the Christmas spirit, or something of the like.”  He was sitting up straighter now, and his eyes were starting to come alive.

”Well, I know not much of this Christmas spirit she speaks of, but I've seen one or two Christmas decorations in my life, and..” he was looking around at the decorations again, growing silent.

”..And none of them looks like this.” Watson finished for him.

Holmes was silent for a while, his eyes were on the bended tree in the middle of the room.

”How did I even get this in here?”  he asked, getting to his feet in one swift motion. Watson followed his friend to the giant tree, wincing at the sight of some of his more expensive doctor's equipment suspended in mid-air.

Once he got so close that it felt like some of the things might fall on their heads, he stopped and looked up.

”Well I don't so much wonder about the tree.  But if you'd care to deduce how on earth the jacket that I JUST took off some minutes ago ended up there, in the top of the tree, I'd be happy to share my cinnamon buns with you.”

Holmes' grin didn't bode well for the peaceful evening Watson told himself he'd been hoping for.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The 4th of December-installment in MariaAD and DDAriSieg's Christmas Calendar


End file.
